Self Esteem
by Cannibal Glow
Summary: Frikey, anyone! " I kick off my boots and see Frank sitting on Gerard’s living room couch with his guitar slung over one leg. He was barely ever without it, but the sight of him playing still makes me slightly weak in the knees. "
1. One

**HAI! This is my side-project until I think of something to do with Drop The Dagger. Nope, it's not a Frerard. =O! **

**UPDATE: Yeah, i know, it's kind of inconsistent with history, beings as Bob didn't join the band until later, but what's Matt ever done for them, hmm? aside from record some stuff and do two music videos. Really.**

**DISCLAIMER - This is fiction. Mikey would never, Frankie would never. Married men do not do such things with their friends. Anywho, enjoy!**

My alarm clock wakes me up with a furious beeping. I slam my fist onto it, not knowing what button I pressed to silence the damn thing, but I was grateful for the quiet. I rolled out of bed, drumming my fingers on my bare chest as I slunk to the bathroom. The light was already on. I groaned. Alicia could still not, for life of her, remember to turn off a fricking light switch. I look in the mirror. I don't know what good that does, though, because I can't see anything anyway. I take my glasses from their usual spot in my medicine cabinet and put them on. I wish I hadn't.

My hair is everywhere, and it's going wavy from sleeping on it. I turn the light off, silently willing Alicia to take the damned hint. Then I go downstairs where she's waiting for me at the table with a mug in front of my chair.

"Morning," I grumble, sitting down and sipping the coffee.

"Good morning!" Alicia chirps. I don't understand how that girl can be so incessantly happy all the time. I mean, she's dating _me_. I'm kind of a rain cloud on people's happiness. That is to say, I'm pretty negative all the time.

I muster up a small smile and continue drinking my coffee so I can function. What did I have planned for today? Oh, yeah. I was gonna get together with the guys and go see The Smiths later. I already had my ticket, sitting there in my room. Alicia knew about it, so she was going to hang out with her girlfriends.

"I'm gonna go hang out with Gerard and them soon. Is that okay?" I ask casually.

"It's fine. I gotta meet the girls later anyway."

I nod, finish off the mug, set it in the sink and canter upstairs to the bathroom again in order to take a shower. Alicia left me some hot water; that was nice of her. I hum to myself absentmindedly as I scrub off. Alicia told me once that I sounded good, but I don't really sing. I'm pretty much horrible at it. I can play bass pretty well, though. Bass is my niche. I don't have to shred, I just have to keep a beat. I don't need to move onstage because most of my band's fans could care less about me. I kind of like it that way.

I step out of the shower and get dressed in my usual skinnies and Anthrax shirt. I swear, I wear that thing twice a week. A man obsessed is a man obsessed.

Then comes my stupid hair. I wish I could just shave my damned head and not have to deal with it. I towel it off a little so it's dry enough to flat iron in the front. I do that to give myself a little makeshift devil lock and I muss it up in the back. I take my wallet with me and I'm about to head out the door when Alicia comes up to me. "Wait!"

"What?" I groan impatiently.

"You look handsome," Alicia says, too innocently for the compliment.

My glasses make their way down the bridge of my nose. I push them up and smile at her. "You look beautiful."

Alicia giggles and I kiss the top of her head before I leave.

Gerard's place isn't far from mine. Pretty much a stone's throw, but I drive anyway. My old Misfits CD is in the player, with Braineaters playing. I nod my head along to the melody and pull up into my brother's driveway. Frank and Bob's cars are already there. That means I'm on time, because if you get there after Ray, you're considered late. I get out of my vehicle and lock the doors. I slowly walk up Gerard's driveway, looking at my feet the entire time. Gerard opens the door before I can knock.

"Hey, Mikey!"

"Hi Garry," I tease, knowing full well that he hates that nickname.

"Yeah, yeah. Come on in."

I kick off my boots and see Frank sitting on Gerard's living room couch with his guitar slung over one leg. He was barely ever without it, but the sight of him playing still makes me slightly weak in the knees. And by 'slightly', I mean 'extremely'. Bob is sitting on the other couch, and he says, "Hi Mikey!"

I wave, and Frank turns to face me. I smile involuntarily when he grins at me. "What's up?" he asks.

"Nothin' much. Getting pretty stoked for The Smiths."

"Aw, I know! It's gonna be legendary."

I nod and sit down beside Frank. He's used to it by now, because I always latch myself onto him like a suckerfish. "What're you workin' on, there?"

"Nothing important," Frank says with a frown. "I just can't get this fucking progression right. No matter what chord I play at the end, it always sounds stupid."

"Well," I suggest, "how about you play it for me, and I try and find a sound?"

"Sure, but if I can't, I don't think you'll be able to."

Frank played through a slightly melancholy couple of chords, with a discordant F at the end. "That's the best I can come up with!"

"Asusfive," I mutter. I remembered the chord from my old guitar days back in junior high. I wasn't so great at it, though.

"Sorry, what?" Frank asks, leaning in closer so that our thighs are touching.

I swallow and repeat myself. "You need an Asus chord. Asus five. I could be wrong, though."

Frank plays the chord progression over with my suggestion. To both of our extreme surprise, it sounds good. Really good.

"Thanks, man!" Frank exclaims and claps me on the shoulder. He's obviously excited about the measly little chord I told him to play. I don't mind; it makes me feel important.

Just then, Ray comes in. "Sorry I'm late. Bauer had this-"

"Okay!" Frank holds up his hand in protest. "We don't need to know."

"Alright, then," Ray agrees, sounding a little pleased that he doesn't have to offer another fake explanation. We all know the real reason: he overslept.

"Should we get going to the studio," Bob says, looking at Ray, "seeing as how princess got his royal ass out of bed?"

"I told you! Bauer-"

"Shhh!" Frank hushed Ray, and he didn't try to protest. Ha, definitely overslept.

"But the studio sounds good," Gerard agrees.

"Definitely," I say. "Should we carpool? Y'know, save gas?"

"Good idea! Okay, um, Bob and Ray, you come with me. Frank and Mikey can go together."

"You cool with me invading your car?" Frank asks me. As if I'd mind him invading anything.

"It's all good," I reply as indifferently as I can while slowing down my heartbeat to non-hummingbird levels.

"Awesome, just let me gut my guitar."

I help him load the guitar case into the back seat of my car and open the passenger door for him on the way over to my side. Who says chivalry is dead? Not like the little things I do matter much to him, because I'm just being Mikey, but I still do them. I really enjoy being nice to Frank. In a way, it kind of feels like I'm doing myself a favour.

"Thanks for the ride," Frank says when I come in and get the car moving.

"No worries."

"So," he says a bit uncomfortably, resting his arm next to mine on the little compartment between the two seats, "how's life?"

"Life is fine," I answer and shrug, using the motion to bring my arm closer to his. I can feel the heat from his arm moving onto mine. "Yours?"

"Good, good. It's good. I'm kind of thinking of ending it with Jamia, though."

I'm shocked. Frank _loved_ Jamia. He rarely talked about anything else! And when they were together, the atmosphere between them was so amazingly perfect… like I wish it was with him and I. "What?! Why?!"

"I'm not feeling it anymore, you know? It's gone."

"What's 'it', exactly?"

"It. The spark. It's not like I'm out of love or anything, it's just that I have to work at it. And love shouldn't be work."

"There's someone else, isn't there?" I ask, cutting right to the point.

There is a long pause. Frank looks at me with desperate eyes as we stop for a red light. I stare back, looking over every so often at the light to make sure it hadn't changed on me.

"Yeah," he says, and looks down at his feet.

"Oh," I mutter, revving the engine again as the light flicks to green.


	2. Two

I pick up the blue, loaner bass at the studio and play a line. Ugh, thank God. It's in tune this time. We start by playing Headfirst for Halos, and I move towards the back. I watch Frank play. His energy isn't just staged. It's real, that emerges every time he plays. I'm absolutely mesmerized by him as he slides on his knees and rolls on his back, managing to still play to perfection. I wish I could do that…

I then watch him stand up and head for Gerard. I really want to close my eyes. Because Frank and Gerard don't stage the stuff they do together. Well, I mean, they _do_, but they rehearse it beforehand. So, today, Frank was having his was with licking Gerard's neck. My hands shake with envy and it's all I can do to keep them steady enough to play right. The song finishes, and I take the bass off my shoulder and leave.

Okay, not so much 'leave', as 'chill out in the bathroom for a few minutes before they send my brother looking for me'.

"What's the matter?" he asks, coming behind me and looking at me in the mirror.

"Nothing! Can't I go to the bathroom without a search party?" I snap.

"Woah! Mikey! What's gotten into you?" Gerard's face is concerned, like it so rarely is. I take that as a call to not be angry at him. He really wants to know what's wrong.

"Gee? You're my brother, so I can tell you anything, right?" I ask, turning to face him.

"Of course you can!"

"Alright, well," I begin, taking a deep breath, "I think… I mean, I _am_… in love with Frank."

Gerard blinks. I know instantly that I shouldn't have told him. He puffs out a breath, and says, "Wow. I did not know that."

"I know," I reply sheepishly, gnawing my lip, "Nobody knew."

"That's big," Gerard says, putting his arm on my shoulder.

"Yeah. I know."

"It's cool, though. So, wait… are you gay?"

I sigh. It was always such a hassle explaining bisexuality in a one-word answer. "Marginally, yeah."

"You're bi, then," Gerard says, not a question, but a statement.

I nod.

"Okay, well that's good to know. Anywho, we miss you out there! You can't play Drowning Lessons without bass! It simply cannot be done."

I crack a small grin. "Alright, I'll follow you out. And… hey, Gerard?"

"Mm?" he replies, smiling at me.

"Thanks for being so chill about this. I appreciate it," I admit, hating to be all tender with my brother.

"Don't mention it," Gerard nonchalantly answers.

We walk back out to the studio where everyone is waiting. They smile at me, which I think is kind of messed up. All of a sudden, I feel like everyone knows my little secret. I gulp, pick up the bass, and begin to play, managing to keep my eyes off Frank for the duration of the practice. A feat, in my opinion, worth a congressional medal of honour.

I wait for Frank outside by my car, not anticipating the ride back to Gee's house. He eventually comes out and puts his guitar case in the backseat, then gets into the passenger side. I slip in and start the engine without a word. I'm hoping we won't have to talk about my little shit fit I had a few hours prior. But- of course - that hope was in vain because the first thing out of his mouth is, "What was wrong? You nearly broke a bass during the first ten minutes!"

"Yeah, I know. I'm just having a weird day, I guess?"

"Oh, I gotcha."

There's a pause. I don't know what to say and, evidently, neither does Frank. I sigh and put my arm on the little compartment, and I'm shocked to find that Frank's is there, too.

"Sorry!" I blurt.

"S'okay."

Frank doesn't move his arm, and I don't either. I see no reason to. All of a sudden, his hand grabs onto mine. My stomach drops. I turn into a sweat machine. And then that's all I can think about. What if he thinks my hand is gross?! What if my hand melts and then he'll be holding a puddle of slime?! Ugh, that's it. I have to let go of Frank's hand and at _least_ wipe mine off. It's the least I can do. So, carefully, I wiggle out of his grip and wipe my clammy hand on my jeans.

Frank bursts out into a fit of belly-laughs. "You're such a loser!"

I blush a shade of crimson and return my eyes to the road. "Yeah? Well, you are, too. For holding a loser's hand!"

Frank finds my hand, which had been resting on my thigh, and intertwines our fingers. I gulp audibly. "Well, call me a loser, then," Frank says, squeezing our hands together even more.

"Ditto," I laugh.

I somehow manage to drive the rest of the way back to Gee's house one-handed, and I also manage to not vomit, or break out into sweat and or tears. I think it's a very successful ten minutes.

Frank understandably drops my hand once we get parked. I don't hold it against him. "Thanks for that. I mean it."

"Anytime," I say, confused.

Frank gets out of the car and begins to walk into the house. Only he hikes his shirt up a little and puts his thumbs through his belt loops, strutting like a peacock. I'm sure this gesture is for me.

I follow him shortly after, rubbing my face off and trying to convince myself that I am not, in fact, dreaming.


	3. Three

**Yes, this one is short. But sweet.**

Soon, it's time to head down to the venue for The Smiths. They're playing this big auditorium, and pretty much half of Jersey is gonna be there. Actually, half of Jersey _is_ there, judging by the lack of parking.

"There's nowhere to park!" I groan, sinking down into the seat of Frank's car. He and I carpooled again, to save gas, and because he owed me a drive.

"Quit whining, loser! We'll find a place."

His hand squeezes mine, the same as the last time we'd held hands. Only this time, our hands are in his lap. I'm getting used to this whole contact thing. Even if it's just when we happen to be in a vehicle.

The eighties-mobile I've just started getting moderately comfortable in jerks into a teeny spot, scaring the crap out of me. "Seriously? I won't even be able to get out."

"You callin' me fat?" Frank jokes, putting the car in park and breaking the hold we had on each other.

"No! I was just-" I start to defend myself, but Frank shushes me.

"Relax. I was just kidding," he says, sliding expertly out of the small crack his door would allow, being next to a large van.

I roll my eyes and climb out of the door with less grace. As a matter of fact, I almost fall on my face. I'm not such a graceful person.

Frank notices this and chuckles. "And here we have the elusive Mikey. See his lack of grace, but he somehow manages to play live on a monthly basis. Fascinating!"

I swat at Frank's head, but he ducks. Fricking reflexes of his. I'll make a note to add that to the list of things Frank has that I don't.

I casually swing my arm over Frank's shoulder as we walk, and he sticks his hand in my back pocket. I'll be the first to admit: I have no fucking idea what he's doing. I don't know who this 'other person' is that's taking away his feelings for his girlfriend, nor do I know why he holds my hand, or touches my ass. I have no clue why I'm allowing this, either. I have a girlfriend. Whom is female. And not Frank. It's absolutely terrible of me, I know. I should be thinking of her, and what she'd think, but I'm not. I barely even remember her name, let alone my own, when Frank's nearby. When I can feel the heat from his body radiating onto my own, I don't think of much else. I can't even remember the word 'reserved'.

Frank's hand leaves a cold space on my bum when it slides out of my pocket. I instantly see why. The rest of the guys are waiting at the doors, within eyeshot. I drop my arm. Of course it wouldn't be entirely appropriate to be all over each other in front of the world. I hear it's frowned upon. And besides, I didn't want to tempt fate. I could deal with being discrete, but I didn't want to have those brief moments of pure bliss taken away from me.

We walk in, get our tickets ripped, and from then on, it's a blur of lights, sounds, and punk rock. I know all the songs, and I bang my head in time with every single one. I do remember Frank leaving a lot, then coming back with cups of beer. So, when we go out, Frank is leaning on Gerard for support. He's humming Still Ill and staggering out to the car.

"Mikey," Gerard asks, "can you drive him?"

"Definitely."

Gerard hands Frank off to me, and he leans on my shoulder. I say goodbye to the rest of the guys, and try to get Frank into his car. He, on the other hand, has other ideas.

"No, Mikey! I dun wanna go home yet!"

"Yes, Frank, you do."

"NO! I juss wanna stan' out hurr for a lil bit, okay? Juss a lil bit."

I roll my eyes and lean against the car. "Fine."

"Ah- are you mad a' me?" Frank asks innocently. With his drunkenness, he sounds miserable.

"No, Frankie, I'm not mad at you. I'm just… tired."

"Oh."

Frank leans beside me, making our legs tough. This time, however, it's with a purpose. His hand finds mine, and I latch onto him without thinking. "I like when you hold my hand, Mikes."

I smile, in spite of myself. "I like it, too."

"Can I tell you somethin'?"

"Go for it."

"I love you," he says plainly.

For a moment, my heart leaps. I'd needed to hear these words for what felt like forever, and I long to say them back. Just to let him know that he isn't alone in this. But then I smell the alcohol on Frank's breath. "You're drunk."

"So?"

"You won't remember this tomorrow."

"I'll 'member this," Frank slurs, suddenly pulling my face down onto his and forcing his tongue into my mouth. I can't say that I hadn't been waiting for it for a year or so, but I didn't want it like this. I didn't want to remember the taste of stagnant beer. Nonetheless, the shameful sap that I am, I kissed back to the best of my ability. My neck is getting cramped, so I use all my leverage to pull Frank up by the back of his thighs up around my waist. He's lighter than I expected, which is nice. He locks his ankles together and I maneuver my hands so I'm supporting him and also getting a decent feel of his ass. His arms encircle my neck, and I let an exhale out through my nose. Frank barely seems drunk anymore, as he moves his tongue in waves to the left and right. I moan involuntarily into Frank's mouth. He laughs, and hops down too suddenly.

"Thanks fer that. Can you take me home now?"

"Um… yeah," I say, in an absolute daze.


	4. Four

Frank falls asleep on the ride back to his place, which is just fine with me. My head is reeling. My mouth still tastes like Frank, so I know I didn't imagine it. It's just… I wanted it to be more perfect than this. I didn't want Frank to pass out drunk just shortly after. I wanted him to remember it in the morning, not just be part of his drunken haze. But, because I'm so pathetic, I settled for it. I didn't push him off, like I damn well should have. While he gets to forget something he'd regret, I don't. I know for a fact that the kiss will occupy my mind until something else monumental happens. It's just the way I operate.

"Frank," I hiss, shaking his shoulder as I pull up into his driveway, "we're here!"

"Mmph," he murmurs, getting out of the car. Although not with the lithe grace he had before. He stumbles out, takes a few steps, then collapses onto his knees and heaves. The gagging noise is made faint by my car's windows, but I hear it clearly enough. I rush out to go help him up, but the sharp smell of acid made me stop in my tracks. Frank flops over onto his side and I almost puke, myself. Sighing, I take his arm and sling it over my shoulders, then pick his legs up. His door is already open. That completely fits Frank. Leaving his fucking door open in Jersey. I laugh bleakly to myself and stumble into the dark house and trying to remember where Frank's bedroom is. Was it down the hall and to the right? Or left?

I try my luck with right. My luck, evidently, didn't quit. His bedroom is where I guessed, and I plop him onto his bed. I kiss his forehead, not knowing when my next opportunity to do that would be.

"Don't go," he moans.

"I thought you were asleep," I whisper, like the intelligent soul I am.

"Not anymore."

"Well," I almost coo, sitting beside Frank's feet, "close your eyes. Get some rest."

"I don't want to."

I do the bravest thing I think I've ever done. I slide over to the empty spot on Frank's bed and lay down beside him. "If I stay, will you sleep?"

Frank turns over to look at me. "Maybe."

"How drunk are you still? Just out of curiosity."

Frank's shameful half-smile answers my question. "I'll still stay. Just try and sleep. I get worried about you, you know."

"Mm," Frank sighs, scooting closer and resting his head against the arm I had underneath his pillow. After no time at all, I hear him start to breathe heavily, so I slide my arm out from under him gingerly. He lets out a most peculiar whine, so I put my arm back. I don't actually mind watching Frank sleep. He's so gorgeous even when his face is relaxed that I can hardly stand the sight. After about an hour, I slowly move my head downwards and press my lips the top of his hand that is resting beside his face. I don't think he'll mind this one little gesture. After all, he is asleep. Or, before he opened his eyes, he was.

"Mikey?"

"Uh," I stammer, trying to think quickly. "I must've fallen asleep and my head just-"

"You kissed me."

It takes me a few seconds to reply. "Alright, yeah, you caught me. I'm such a loser."

Frank puts his arm around my waist and pulls me in closer. "You're my loser, though."

I swallow. Frank just called me his. Drunk or not, that accelerated my heartbeat. "Your loser, huh?"

"Yeah," Frank purrs, moving his face close to mine. So close that our noses are touching. He stretches his lips to meet mine, and I kiss back. This time, it's not as sloppy and urgent. It's… nice. I slide my tongue between his parted lips and I'm pleased to find he lifts his up, too. But when he does, I can't help but pull away.

"Frankie?" I ask, shyly.

"Why'd you stop?"

"You kind of just threw up. It doesn't taste very good."

Frank smiles and says "Hold on a second."

I watch him slide out of the bed and I see a light flick on in the distance. But that's all I see before I fall asleep.

I don't know how long I'm out for, but when I wake up, Frank is there, looking at me. "Aw, shit," I murmur, sleepily.

"Hey, there. I tried to let you sleep longer, but you were just so cute, I- well…" Frank trails off, kissing me again. I get chills down my spine when his tongue is the one to tap mine first. It's cold, but it tastes considerably better. I gently suck on it, knowing that it got a rise out of everyone I've been with, so why not Frank? And I was right. Frank moans into my mouth, the sensation making my whole head buzz. I don't stop, though. His pleasure is too enjoyable. His hand migrates to my cheek, and the other one travels down my back and beneath the top of my jeans to toy with the waistband of my boxers. He slides his thumb in, moving it around from hip to hip. It's driving me absolutely mad below the waist. I break away from his mouth to whisper, "Oh, Frank. We… we can't."

Frank's thumb snaps out of my boxers. "Why not?"

"You're slightly intoxicated, we've both got girlfriends, we can't just- no!"

Frank stares at me with hurt, puppy-dog eyes as I make a run for it. And then I remember. I don't have a fucking car! I took Frank's!

I take my cellphone out and make a reluctant call to Alicia. I check the time, and it's apparently two-oh-five. Oh God. I cross my fingers, praying she'll pick up.

"Hello?" she answers on the fourth ring, sounding impossibly tired.

"Hi. Listen, um, you feel like picking me up?"

"Mikey!" Alicia's voice took on a concerned edge. "Where are you?"

"Frank's house. We took his car and he was on the brink of alcohol poisoning."

Alicia makes an 'Ugh' noise, and hangs up. I sit on the curb and hang my head. When Alicia got ahold of me, it wasn't going to be very great.

And I'm right. "Why couldn't you have just gotten a cab or something? I was asleep!" Alicia yells from beside me.

"I know, I know. I wasn't thinking."

"You're right! What the hell were you doing over there this late, anyway?"

"It was Frank, I was worried about him. He was like, impossibly drunk, so I didn't want him to choke on his own vomit or anything."

Alicia sighs, resigned. We're about halfway home and we don't speak for the duration of the ride. I know she's not as angry as she seems, because Alicia's really intense about life and everything, so I know she's going to forget it in the morning. Even so, I don't follow her to the bedroom.

"Mikey?" she asks expectantly.

"What?"

"Aren't you coming to bed?"

"No. I'm sleeping on the couch."

Alicia glowers at me and stomps up to our room while I stretch out, trying to fit my frame on our tiny loveseat. Not like I could sleep, anyway. My head is occupied entirely by Frank. What the hell?! What was he doing to me? I don't want to be some sort of home wrecker, but I can't be sure that it wasn't just Frank being drunk. Which still doesn't explain the hand-holding. I take my glasses off, and set them on the coffee table. I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping to God if there is one, that sleep comes and washes over my confusion. What kills me is that Frank wouldn't remember the morning after, but here I am, thinking about it to no extent. Like it actually meant something. Which it did not. Or, at least, I don't think it did. It meant something to me, because I was and continue to be irrevocably in love with him, but to him, it's part of the hangover haze. He's going to wonder why he's in bed, and how he got there, but he isn't going to know it was me who took him home and cleaned up after him. That's how it goes. Nobody gives me a second thought. Nobody cares about Mikey.

I wake up, cramped and alone. It's cold in my house, and there's no sounds of Alicia flitting about. This worries me a little bit.

"'Lic?" I call. It's my pet name for her, you say it like 'leash', and it's in my arsenal for when I'm in deep shit and need to soften her up.

There is no answer.

Surprised, I wander to our room. There's nobody there, except someone has been there, because the bed is made. And there's a yellow post-it note stuck to my pillow.

In case you decide to come to bed, I'm sorry and I love you. I'm going shopping with Jamia all day, so I won't be home. - love, Alicia.

Huh. Alicia was going shopping with Jamia? That's kind of peculiar.

I hear the phone ring, so I rush to answer it without checking the caller ID. "Yeah?"

"Mikey," Frank said from the other line, sounding like death, "what happened last night?"

I want to tell him, truly I do, but I don't think that it's wise. So, even though my stomach and everything else is begging to tell him, I say, "Um, nothing important. Why?"

"Okay, well, something happened. Because Jamia is mad at me. Is Alicia angry with you?"

"She was, yeah, because she had to pick me up from your place at like, three."

"My place?"

"Oh, yeah, you weren't sober enough to stand, let alone drive home. So I had to take you in and put you to bed."

"Ah. Sorry about that, Mikes. I regret it now, because I don't even remember going into the place. The last thing I can think of is putting my hand in your pocket. Please, Mikey, please tell me what else went on."

I take a deep breath. Do I tell him? "I don't think you want to know."

"I think I do."

"Okay, well… you, um, you kissed me."

There's a silence on the other end for a good thirty seconds, followed by a, "Fuck. _Fuck_. _FUCK_!"

"Woah, Frankie, take it easy. What's the matter? It wasn't rape or anything… I went along with it."

"No, it's not that. It's just-" Frank paused to heave a sigh, "I wasn't supposed to do that quite yet."

"Yet?"

"Can I come over?"

"Um… sure?"

Frank hangs up and I bound up the stairs to take a shower. I don't know why, but I don't feel any cleaner after I'm done. Maybe it's because I'm just dirty. I sigh and go put on a pair of boxers, skinny jeans, and a prison-striped sweater. I roll the sleeves up to my elbow and muck around with my hair, hoping it will dry in the way I like to wear it. Although that usually never happens.

As if on cue, the door rings the instant I decide I'm ready enough. I practically sprint down the stairs to fling open the door. Frank is standing there, of course, and the first thing he does is fling himself onto me in a rib-crushing hug.

"Hi," I choke.

"Hey. I really, really need to talk to you."

My heart stops for a second. "Okay, uh, take a seat, at least."

Frank nods, breaks away from the hug, and sits on my loveseat. I perch beside him, not comfortable at all.

"Michael James Way. How long have we known each other?"

"'Bout a year, almost two."

"That's right. So, you can guess how long I've liked you for."

I'm suddenly paralyzed. I can't move, I can't speak, I can barely breathe. It takes me a minute before I can find my voice. "You what?"

"Yeah, I like you. A lot. You'd be the other person I was talking about. I wasn't planning on telling you, or kissing you for that matter, but you know what kind of a person I am when I've got eight beers in me, so-"

"Wait, wait, wait," I interrupt. "You. Like. Me?"

Frank nods. I'm so utterly, completely euphoric I could cry. "I like you, too."


	5. Five

**Okay, yeah, it's really short, but its content should not disappoint.**

It's Frank's turn to be speechless. He blinks, and stares at me with huge eyes. "You like me, too. Holy shit."

"Holy shit is right."

"What a predicament, hey?" Frank says, with a little smile.

"Oh, yeah."

We both let ourselves fall back on the couch, and I sigh. This new information made me so, so, so, so happy. The happiest I think I've ever been. And that is so, so wrong.

"So," Frank says, looking nervous, "now that we've established that, there's something I'd like to try."

"Go for it."

Frank crawls on top of me, so that he's basically sitting on my thighs, and kisses me. I close my eyes, put my hand on his cheek and feel his tongue slide between my lips. I suck on it, as I'd done before, and Frank subtly grinds against me. As suddenly as he'd started kissing me, he stops. He's got this cute little smile on his face. "Mm," he sighs, "It's much better sober."

I don't have time for talking. All at once, I'm consumed by this… animal lust for Frank. I crush my lips onto his again and he doesn't object. Actually, he encourages me by pulling my shirt over my head for me. The feeling of him pressed against my bare skin was almost too much. I growl from my chest and tug off Frank's shirt and clutch him closer. We're still kissing quite aggressively, with a passion reserved only for forbidden affairs. Frank pulled away from me with difficulty to whisper, "Mikey, you're so fucking _hot_!"

"You, too," I say, then pull his face back onto mine. He yanks my glasses off and tosses them with a clatter onto the coffee table. I don't care that they could possibly be broken. I just want Frank.

So, all while tonguing him, I undo the top button of his jeans and pull the zipper down. He's already hard, so I feel like I'm doing him a favour. I reach my hand into his boxers, and take ahold of him. I move my hands in the same way I do when I'm blowing my own load, and Frank seems to like it. He's biting my lower lip, which really got me going. He begins to pant every time my hands move up and down his length once. This panting of his, and the way he's arching his hips into my touch, is pretty much enough for me. I wouldn't even need to get fucked at this rate.

I feel Frank start to throb, and I begin to pump faster. I'm shocked to find that his hand pulls mine out of his pants. "Not yet," he breathes. "You're not ready."

I look down at my own bulge and beg to differ. Frank laughs to himself and kisses me once on the lips before making his way down my chest, and around my hips, until he undoes my jeans and pulls them to my knees, along with my boxers. He runs his hand down my shaft once, and then slowly dips his head down and takes me in his throat. I moan and try to grab for something, and settle for the couch cushions. This goes on for about a minute, until I'm about to come, and I almost do when he drags his teeth as he takes me out of his mouth.

"Ready?" he asks.

"Hold on," I whisper, jogging quickly to my room to grab some condoms and some lube from my underwear drawer. I then come back to the living room where Frank's sitting, and I'm trying my hardest not to focus on the uncomfortable throbbing in my dick. I toss him the condoms and lube, and rush to go get a towel. Nobody likes come stains all over their couch. Or wherever else.

When I get back, Frank is completely naked and wrapped. "Where do you want to do this?" I ask.

"The floor."

I swallow. Ugh, rug burn. But nonetheless, I nod and lay the towel down. I kneel on it, kicking my jeans off to the best of my ability from this position. I hear Frank come up behind me, and I bite down as hard as I can. And then I feel him inside me. I can't say it didn't hurt, but it wasn't horrible, either. I loosen up a bit and it feels really, really good. I fall forward onto my hands and rock my entire body with every thrust of Frank's hips. Frank's moaning is loud and kind of uncalled for, but it's helping me get off that much quicker. I pinch my eyes closed and let every possible dirty image take over. All of them involve Frank in some way or the other. I start whimpering at every forward buck of Frank's hips, and I know that I'm almost at my peak. I clench the towel in one tight fist and use the other hand to rub my dick, and I hear that Frank is about to come, too. He finishes with one last mention of my name, and his movement slows down. He's still not pulled out, so I move my hand faster than I knew I could, and I exploded a few seconds later, panting and about to fall over. I decide it doesn't matter, so I flop down onto my stomach, surprising Frank, who has all of his weight on my back for a second. Then he slowly pulls out and lays beside me.

"I love you," he says, like it's absolutely nothing.

"I love you, too." I kiss him briefly.

His hand finds mine and he snakes his fingers through mine. "We're losers."

"_Such_ losers," I agree, tightening my grip on his hand. I never, ever want to let go.


	6. Six

**Mmm, don't you just _love_ smut? it's quite obvious that i do! don't worry, more substance next update.**

Frank has his head on my barely-existent bicep as we catch the middle of a Night of the Living Dead rerun on some public access channel in my room. We're laying on my bed, my arm underneath him and I'm not paying attention to the zombies, really. Just paying attention to Frank and the way his eyes are slowly slipping shut, because we've both seen this movie upwards of ten times.

A commercial comes on for some sort of insurance, so I take my opportunity to talk. "Frankie?"

"Yeah?" he asks, suppressing a yawn.

"What the hell are we supposed to do about this?"

"Good question," Frank says, "but I have no idea how to answer it."

"That makes two of us."

Frank sighs and flips his body around so his head is on my chest and he's smiling up at me. "We can just ride it out?"

"Riding it out sounds good. Especially the 'riding' part."

Frank rolls his eyes and squirms upwards. He kisses me quickly before my cell phone vibrates against his thigh. He makes a surprised groan, and rolls off me. I snicker to myself, so my smile is audible when I answer, "Hello?"

"Hey, Mikey!" Alicia chirps.

"Hey, baby! What's up?"

"Oh, nothing. Listen, is Frank okay with spending the night? Jamia wants me to give her a mani-pedi."

"Um," I say, not knowing what exactly that was, "sure, he's cool with it."

"Good! Love you!"

"Love you, too."

Alicia hangs up and I toss my phone aside. "What was that about?" Frank asks.

"You're staying the night. Alicia's not coming back 'til tomorrow."

Frank's face lights up with a mischievous grin. "I like where this is headed."

"Me, too," I say, pressing my lips against his. He doesn't force his tongue into my mouth, we just kiss. Nothing hardcore, but it's kind of… special. Like we don't need sex. We just need each other. I put my hand on his back and rub up and down, because I like it when people do that to me. Frank puts his left leg over mine, so he's straddling my thigh while laying down. He starts to gyrate his hips around, so maybe we _do_ need sex. And it's not as if I object.

Frank's kisses become more fervent and they move down to my neck. He dips his tongue into the little space between my shoulder and collarbone, drawing a moan from me. He seems to catch on that I like it, so he does it on both sides. He's got me whispering his name, much as I try not to. "_Frank_," I moan under my breath with every flick of his tongue.

Whenever he lifts his mouth up to kiss someplace else, he returns my whispers with, "_Mikey_."

I move my leg up and down to make more friction and get a rise out of Frank. I hear him moan and he grabs my waist at the sudden movement. I smirk at him, and he suddenly devours my mouth. I involve my tongue and he lifts his up, too, and we move our mouths in perfect sync. It's just a matter of time before I get antsy and pull Frank's shirt off.

"Twice in one day?" he breathes, pulling away from me to yank off the band tee.

"Guess so," I say plainly. "Do you mind?"

"Fuck that!"

I take the opportunity of Frank not being attached to my face to take my sweater off. He sees that my skin is exposed, so he takes to it with his tongue. He's licking around my chest when my pants start to get tight. Obviously he feels it, because he undoes my fly. He doesn't do anything with it, just relieves the pressure. And builds it at the same time by teasing me. He slides his hands under the waist of my jeans, seemingly about to pull them down, but then he pulls them up again, creating a good sensation in a fucked up way. After he does this about five times, I finally groan, "Just do it, you fucking tease!"

Frank blows on me and I nearly lose what little cool I have left. "In good time. I'm just making sure you're ready."

I roll my eyes and expertly roll over so that I'm dominating Frank. "Let me take care of you this time."

Frank swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat, making me a little more turned on. "'Kay."

"Don't be nervous," I coo, kissing his shoulder, then downwards to his bellybutton. I make a little circle and then undo his jeans. I guide him so that he's sitting on the edge of his bed, and I am kneeling in front of him. He looks down at me expectantly as I pull his skinnies down to his knees and rub my hands up and down his thighs, feeling his muscles. Only I know by the sigh he makes through his nose that the muscles I'm paying attention to aren't on his priority list. So, I wiggle his boxers down to where his pants are, and teasingly press my tongue against his head. He moans contentedly, most likely happy that I stopped being so mean. I blow on him, for a bit of revenge, and he moans more loudly. I laugh silently to myself and slowly take the rest of him in my mouth. His legs begin to move from side to side in time with the movements of my mouth. I know he's trying to stay still, but he can't seem to help it. I get a little smug. And then, I get an idea. I lean back and Frank looks at me, slightly agitated.

"Hold on," I say, sliding my hand down my pants, "I want to feel it, too."

Frank watches me intently as I start to rub my own length. He doesn't seem to care that I'm not sucking him off anymore, although I can't be too sure, because I close my eyes shortly after I start. In a few seconds, I feel like I'm to the point he's at, so I stop paying so much attention to myself and I wrap my mouth around him again. I'm quite surprised when he pushes me away.

"You said you'd take care of me," he says, rolling onto his back. I'm confused for a second, but his exposed ass jogs my memory.

I go over to my underwear drawer where I put the box of rubbers back and I pull one out. I put it on and make a little line of kisses alone Frank's spine, enjoying the fact that he gets goosebumps. I almost don't want to do it, because I don't want to hurt Frank, but everything below my waist says otherwise. As gently as is humanly possible, I dig into his heat, hating his choked whimpers he's trying to keep from me. He cries out at my first thrust, but then I find his 'spot', and he goes fucking primal.

I swear I can hear tearing when his fingers dig into my comforter. Not like I pay it more than a second's attention, because Frank steals all my focus. He's got my pillow now; his face is buried in it so he doesn't disturb my whole block with the way he's screaming my name. I'm moaning his, but not in the loud way. I feel myself get closer and closer to my peak, so I grab onto Frank's hips for leverage, pulling him into me with every buck of my hips. Just before I finish, Frank tightens up and starts to shake. He gets weak right after, so I have to support most of his weight in order to make myself come. I'm so tired once I do, that I barely have enough energy to haul myself to the bathroom and clean myself off, let alone get into a pair of pyjama pants.

Frank pulls his jeans back up and finds another spot on the bed. One that he hasn't made a mess on. "That was," he says breathlessly, "fucking amazing."

"That was clichéd."

"It's true though!"

I hop on my bed next to him, watching his bare chest rise and fall for a few seconds before I say anything. "I know."

Frank turns over and smiles at me, putting his arm around my waist and pulling me into him. I gasp, and he laughs. "You're cute."

"Fuck off," I argue, feeling my face go hot. "Not as cute as you."

"I beg to differ."

I keep my mouth shut, not knowing what else to say. I mean, what _can_ you say to someone so perfect and amazing? Every word in my mind doesn't seem good enough. So I find his hand, take it in mine and stare at him for a few minutes before both our eyes shut.


End file.
